


Unexpected Changes

by shini_amaryllis



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aaravos is a good guy with a good heart and loves his kid a lot, Callum and Viren do not like each other its great, Callum as Aaravos' kid, Callum is a half-elf with a glamour and actually looks a lot like his dad, Callum is the best bargaining chip for Aaravos, F/M, Politics, Sarai and Callum definitely dont like dark magic, dark magic is bad, totally au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 03:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17859032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shini_amaryllis/pseuds/shini_amaryllis
Summary: Aaravos was not what anyone called father material, but there was no denying Callum's relation underneath that glamour.





	Unexpected Changes

**Author's Note:**

> @hazeleyedsparrow on tumblr (aka the nb sib) and I have been bouncing ideas off each other for the past few days about Aaravos being Callum's dad, so here's what I've got:

There weren’t many things that Aaravos regretted, but Elarion was certainly at the top of the list. He’d taken in the young Skywing Elf who’d had so much potential, he’d tried to steer her in the right direction, but controlling where the river flowed wasn’t something that could be done, particularly for that elf. Her river of life was tempestuous with twists and turns that had taken her backwards instead of forwards and over time the water had grown murky and _dark._

Aaravos had realized too late what she’d become when he’d found a human draining the life from magical creatures in order to use magic.

It was horrifying and sickening to see what she’d discovered and what doing so had done to her. Aaravos could see its affects in the pasty paper-thin quality of her face, dark veins spreading.

He had created her, which was the worst part; he had nurtured her, shown her right from wrong, but she had willingly walked down a path of darkness. In a way, Aaravos was responsible for the split of Xadia, between elves and humans, simply for being her master, her teacher.

Aaravos couldn’t take it, the shame, the _horror_ at the evidence of her fall, of his failure, so he secluded himself instead, in the hope that removing himself almost entirely from Xadia would keep the world safe from any other danger he might spring into existence by proxy.

He hadn’t been expecting Sarai to stumble into his life, nor that their union would bring about his greatest gift.

“He’s so… _beautiful,”_ Aaravos marveled, a thumb tracing over a cheek freckled with stars across a midnight sky. Their son took the most after him, it seemed. There were three glowing diamonds under each cheek, ears that came to a point, eyes the same shade of violet as Aaravos’ own, hair a shock of white of what little there was of it. His hair was bare of any hint of horns to grown in and it was likely he never would have them, but Aaravos couldn’t think of that as a negative. He very much doubted he had ever laid eyes on anything more beautiful than his own son.

“Just like his mother,” Sarai laughed, smoothing a thumb down their son’s cheek and Aaravos leaned his forehead against hers. “Admit it, we made one good looking baby.”

That caused laughter to erupt from Aaravos’ lips, which in turn caused the child to bubble with giggles.

“Yeah, Callum,” Sarai cooed, “Daddy’s got a funny laugh, doesn’t he?”

Aaravos bent his head forward to press a kiss to his son’s forehead, murmuring a spell and curving his fingers. When he pulled back, Callum’s hair was dark brown like his mother’s with a matching complexion, though the violet eyes remained, they were not caught within darker sclera but white instead, the ears were still sharpened to a point, and there were faintly darker marks under his eyes where the shining diamonds had been; they could’ve been birthmarks and no one would’ve known any better. No one, but Aaravos.

“You’ll see him again,” Sarai promised.

She didn’t say ‘You’ll see me again’. They’d already said their goodbyes to one another; they had both known their relationship wouldn’t last. Aaravos would treasure it always, just as Sarai would, but Sarai needed to leave Xadia, it wasn’t safe for her, even remaining the nine months of pregnancy had been pushing it. It was safer to take Callum back to the human realms with her than remain with Aaravos out of love or a sense of duty.

“I’ll watch over him,” he agreed.

Sarai rolled her eyes. “You and your _little mirrors._ You need to get out more, Aaravos.”

Aaravos’ lips curved before falling slightly as he returned his son to his mother’s arms. “I have some things for him…for when he’s…old enough to be curious about me, I suppose -you’ll know when to give them to him.”

“Of course,” Sarai smiled softly as Aaravos held out a pack to her, trying not to notice how his hand trembled.

“There’s a book, on magic, on Xadia, on me, for whenever you think he’s ready, and there’s a cloak in here, one of my spares, in case he ever wants something of mine -it’s foolish, I know, maybe I _shouldn’t_ give him a cloak, maybe something—”

“Aaravos.” Sarai cut him off, cupping a hand to his cheek. “You’re rambling…I’m sure Callum will love the cloak…once he’s old enough to fit in it.”

A mirror on Aaravos’ study table blazed with heat suddenly before shattering.

“Time to go,” Aaravos said swiftly as the protection ward failed. His fingers twisted in the air, drawing out runes and the next second an oval of bright light separated them.

The last image he saw was of Sarai’s concerned face and Callum’s meaty hand reaching out for him, and then they were gone, deposited just outside the Xadian border, safe and sound.

Aaravos twisted around at the sound of rushing feet, hands crackling with power that his assailants never saw coming.

* * *

“You must be curious.”

“Curious, about what?” Harrow paused in humming something that vaguely sounded like a lullaby to their son. Ezran was so small in his arms but so content, that was what pleased Harrow the most, that his son was happy and loved and had an older brother that would adore him.

“Callum’s father.”

That made him pause and look up to Sarai, where she was lying on the bed, taking it easy after the birth, Callum smushed into her side, fast asleep.

“You never asked me about him,” Sarai continued. “I thought you would. Anyone entering into a marriage with a woman who already has a child would be curious about the father.”

Harrow had fallen in love with Sarai first when she’d bested him in a spar. He’d first thought there was no way she would look at him, she had a young child and probably a doting husband to adore her, but it was her sister, an up and coming Lieutenant, Amaya, who had signed to him that Sarai was unattached. Harrow had taken that to mean dead, but he knew there were other rumors.

“Your past is your business,” Harrow said simply, “our future is together, that’s all I care about.”

Sarai smiled softly. “Why don’t I tell you the story, anyways?”

Harrow couldn’t deny his curiosity.

“I was young, maybe not _quite_ arrogant, but foolish,” she told him, smoothing a hand down over Callum’s head, tucking the hair behind the ears that came to a sharp point. “I was separated on patrol during a skirmish at the border of Xadia. I was burned, exhausted, and weaponless. The Sunfire Elves were about to finish me off…and then I woke up in a study of some kind, well-rested, my wounds treated, in the presence of an elf like no other. Have you ever heard of Startouch Elves?”

“Barely,” Harrow’s voice lilted, impressed. “You’re saying the one that saved you was a Startouch Elf? I’ve heard they’re _very_ rare.”

Sarai nodded. “I was taken aback by him, I’ll admit. It was like looking at the midnight sky on a person…and he was kind, _gentle,_ assuring me he meant no harm and apologizing for _violently ripping me through space._ ” She chuckled faintly. “Aaravos was a strange one.”

The name rang with familiarity.

“He was a mage, an archmage, _the_ Archmage of Xadia, dangerous and powerful, capable of harnessing the six primal sources of magic…he offered to accelerate the healing of my wounds but he wasn’t sure if his spells were compatible with human biology, but he had spells to ease my pain, so I was fine with healing on my own.”

“So…what happened?” Harrow asked. “What changed?”

Sarai kissed Callum’s head. “He admitted he’s never met a human quite so enthralling, and I told him I didn’t _actually_ want to kill him.” Her lips twisted. “That made him laugh…and nine months later Callum was born…he looked as beautiful as his father -from the ears to the eyes to the skin- the only thing missing were the horns.”

Callum was fairly human in appearance with hair like Sarai’s, eyes the same shape as hers, only violet in color, warm skin, and ears that came to a point beneath the flop of his hair. Maybe the diamond shapes on his cheeks under his eyes weren’t actually birthmarks, but he seemed fairly human at first glance.

His confusion must’ve been clear.

“He cast a spell on him,” Sarai explained, “we both knew it wouldn’t last and that I had to return to my realm. He made it easier for both of us…then he held his son once more before telling me to leave with him.”

“He just…made you _leave?_ Just like that?” Harrow’s confusion remained.

“Well, some enemies had infiltrated the castle, if they’d known about Callum, it would’ve been dangerous,” Sarai explained carefully. “I told you, he was powerful and dangerous and I’d spent nine months carrying the greatest bargaining chip to his enemies. He gave me supplies, opened a portal, and said goodbye to us…Aaravos is a complicated man.”

“But he loved you,” Harrow didn’t know why, but that was important to him, “he loved both of you.”

“Yes, of _course,”_ Sarai laughed, “did that worry you?”

There had been rumors when Harrow had first begun courting a soldier who already had a son, about her disappearing almost a year by the Xadian border and coming back with a child. Some of those rumors painted an ugly picture of a female warrior taken advantage of by a more powerful elf.

The truth was stranger.

“Yes,” Harrow admitted, “if he loved you and if he loved Callum…then I’m glad.”

Sarai’s expression softened and she reached out to cup his cheek before dropping it to the top of Ezran’s head. She had loved Aaravos once, and perhaps a part of her always would, but her heart beat for Harrow now, for the life they would build together for their children. “You are far too good of a man, Harrow…he would’ve liked you.”

“A _high_ compliment I’m sure,” Harrow grinned, rocking Ezran once more when he started to fuss.

“Without a doubt,” she promised, eyes gleaming.

* * *

Callum had it impressed upon him rather young that he was the step-son of the king, not his actual son, a step-prince, so to speak. Neither his mother nor Harrow were ever really happy when they heard someone stressing that to him.

Maybe Callum shouldn’t have slipped up and called Harrow ‘Daddy’ in front of his tutor, but then the king himself had appeared practically out of the shadows, lifting Callum under his arms to settle him on his hip, Callum’s hands still wound tight around his sketchbook that Harrow had gifted him.

Calling Callum son had never been an issue for Harrow, so Callum had tried to call him ‘Daddy’ in return and for some reason Mom had become so overtaken by emotion that she had to leave and Harrow had hugged him so tight that Callum had felt how his shoulders shook.

“I’m sorry,” Callum had said quickly, the words stilted, “I’ll call you—”

“You can call me ‘Daddy’ or ‘Dad’,” Harrow was quick to assure him, “I’d like it if you did.”

Callum had positively beamed at that.

“I’m proud to call you my son,” Harrow smiled before bringing him into another hug.

“Daddy,” Callum tested it out again and grinned widely at Harrow, “it’s nice.”

“It _is_ nice,” Harrow had agreed.

It was moments like those that completely put Sarai’s heart to ease. To know that her children, both of her children, were loved so recklessly and shamelessly by her husband when one wasn’t even his own, it made her breathe easier. Even if many in the castle didn’t agree, even if many in the castle called Callum ‘step-prince’ like being Ezran’s half-brother and not his full-brother made him second-class to the crown prince.

Her sons were loved and that was all she could ever ask for.

* * *

Aaravos had many mirrors he could enchant to cover vast stretches of land, and one that was enchanted to focus on his growing child, Callum.

He had watched his son grow, fondly, with an ache in his heart, remembering how hard it had been to say goodbye to him so soon after his birth. It was still hard to look on him as far away from Aaravos as he was, with a family of his own, with a man to call ‘Dad’ who wasn’t Aaravos.

That had stung a bit at first, but he was glad of it, glad that Callum had someone to look up to, glad of the man that had accepted his half-elf child without any reservations or judgments based on the color of his eyes or the sharpness of his ears.

Sarai had chosen her partner well. She’d boasted about that to him right before they’d left. “Don’t you worry about me, Aaravos, I have _excellent_ taste in men.” She’d winked for good measure.

Aaravos sighed heavily at the image of his son sleeping with difficulty. Dreams did not come easily to his little one, and the diamond marks on his cheeks almost pulsed in the moonlight filtering in through the window. Under the light of the stars, Callum looked the closest to how he was under the glamor; all spells had their weak points and the night hours was this one’s weak point.

Callum twisted in the bed, a frown creasing his brow, before arching in the bed with a scream, eyes flashing with pure light, like when Aaravos used his own magic. The items in the room exploded around him as he continued to scream.

“Callum!”

Aaravos was too far away to do anything for his son, but Sarai was there, rushing into the room and winding her arms around their child, rocking him as he sobbed, clinging to her. Harrow was right behind, eyes casting to the carnage of the room before he came up to Callum, rubbing a soothing hand over his back as he cried into his mother’s arms.

“Callum, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Sarai asked gently, like he hadn’t ripped apart his room with an explosive burst of magic. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Callum’s dark head nodded in her arms, his hands balled into fists.

“Well, it’s over now,” Harrow assured, still smoothing a hand across Callum’s back in a comforting manner, “and you’re safe, I promise.”

Callum trembled a few moments more and Sarai continued to rock him softly, humming the same faint tune to the lullaby that Aaravos had sang to get Callum to sleep the first night. She had forgotten the words - _she must have-_ but the memory of the tune remained and its effect remained the same, calming Callum to the point where his sobs faded to weak hiccups.

Aaravos couldn’t help but smile, aching to reach out and touch his child, to smooth the worry from his brow and the tears from his eyes, to murmur words of love in his ear. It was tempting, _terribly_ tempting to create a portal, to appear at Callum’s side, to hold his son, but Aaravos resisted the urge.

It wasn’t safe for him to be a part of Callum’s life, no matter what he wished. But he looked forward to the day he could be.

* * *

Sarai and Harrow had silently agreed to let Callum sleep in their room for the night, particularly since his room was pretty much in shambles. Sarai had kissed his brow before sliding away to speak quietly with Harrow outside the room.

“I think it would be wise to ask Viren for help,” Harrow offered. Though, at times, their relationship was somewhat strained from the ongoing conflict with Xadia, Harrow still counted him as his closest friend and advisor. “This is magic and—”

“No.” Sarai was quick to counter him. “I’ve seen the way he looks at Callum, I’ve seen the way _most people_ look at Callum, and Viren _hates_ elves! What would he do if he found out about Callum’s father?”

“Yes,” Harrow couldn’t really disagree, they were all good points, “but you saw the state of his room, Sarai.”

“He was confused and _scared_ , it was a nightmare, _nothing more!”_ Sarai forced out heatedly, struggling to keep her voice low.

“It was a nightmare that ripped apart his room.” Harrow crossed his arms.

Sarai opened her mouth, fury sparking in her eyes only to flicker out like all the air had been sucked from the room. Unfortunately, it wasn’t like Harrow was wrong. Aaravos would’ve known what to do…or maybe he _wouldn’t’ve;_ taking on a student had caused terrible events before and she doubted he was confident to make a second attempt, not even with his son.

She pressed her hand to her face, screwing her eyes shut. She was lost and that was the truth of it. Sarai was a warrior and though Callum loved drawing more than learning swordsmanship, if she left him alone long enough in the armory, she knew his interest would be drawn instead towards the bows and arrows. That was the only thing Sarai could pass onto her son, her skill as a fighter. She had no magic, she was no artist, and her true face didn’t shine like a stretch of midnight sky on a clear summer night.

Harrow’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her body against his. “It’s all right,” he murmured, “I know you’re just worried about him…I am too.”

She clung to him not thinking to wonder what dream had terrified Callum so.

* * *

“Queen Sarai, it is a pleasure and an honor to meet you, albeit under such serious circumstances.”

Sarai bowed politely where she had Ezran in her arms, her braid caught in his fascinated grip, Callum sitting beside her, doodling in the sketchbook ‘Daddy’ had gotten him -Sarai couldn’t even begin to convey how happy she was at how happily and eagerly Harrow had taken to being called such a thing by Callum- he wasn’t Aaravos-level good, but he was only six.

“Queen Annika, Queen Neha, it’s a pleasure as well.” Sarai ran a hand through Callum’s hair, “I apologize for my eldest, he’s very enthralled with drawing Daddy.”

Sure enough, the image on the page was of a messily drawn Harrow, dreadlocks, beard, and all.

“That’s all right,” Queen Annika laughed, her hair a shock of white that made Sarai think of Aaravos and of how Callum’s hair was actually colored, but her eyes were blue, one with a long-healed slice through it. “Our little Aanya hasn’t grasped coloring in the lines yet.”

Queen Neha beside her laughed as well, golden eyes glittering. “It’s probably for the best that Aanya hasn’t, or all our allies would be receiving missives with letters colored in randomly.”

Queen Annika hummed approvingly.

“Callum, sweetheart, Daddy’s looking a bit… _tired,_ why don’t you go give him a break and show him what you drew?” Sarai suggested to Callum who positively brightened at the idea.

She watched him skip off, sketchbook in hand to reach Harrow’s side, tugging at his pantleg.

Sarai noticed a lot, watching from a distance, perhaps more than she wished to. Like how Viren’s eyes narrowed at the interruption of Callum while her sister smiled warmly, waving at her nephew from the other side of the table. His disdain was always clear to see.

“Daddy, look!” Harrow stooped to lift Callum up with a delighted smile as he looked upon the (very) rough sketch in Callum’s sketchbook.

“Is that me?” Harrow asked, bumping his head slightly against Callum’s. “You’ve captured my likeness…in fact, dare I say it, you’ve made me _even more handsome!”_

Callum’s light laughter belled out in the somber air, easing the dark cloud somewhat. Even in stressful times, her son had a smile and at the sound of Callum’s laugh, laughter bubbled up out of Ezran, reaching his hands in the direction of the sound.

Sarai didn’t agree with Viren’s plan, but he was painfully aware of that. Harrow was easier to manipulate by bringing the suffering of his people into the equation, but that trick would only work so many times; easier to manipulate, to convince, _now_ , but the same couldn’t be said for later.

Was a Magma Titan a monster? Sarai couldn’t be sure, but she did know that people might consider Aaravos a monster when she did not. Monster was a relative term. Sarai found Dark Magic to be monstrous when she’d seen Primal Magic in its purest form; dancing lights to delight their newborn as he was held in Sarai’s arms, reaching out in awe of the pretty magic his father had conjured.

She didn’t think this mission would go according to plan and she didn’t agree with it, but she’d stand by Harrow’s side no matter what.

“Let’s go say hi to your big brother and Daddy,” she hummed into Ezran’s ear before standing and approaching the table.

* * *

It was important for her to explain things to Callum before she left, in case…

She shook herself out of that thought. Callum hadn’t had another nightmare spell in some time, but his use of magic then had made her wary.

“Callum,” Sarai spoke gently, sitting beside him on his bed, watching him sketch out what looked to be the flower symbol of Duren. The lines were a bit shaky, but he’d gotten the shape of it right, “there’s something I want to talk to you about…your father.”

“He eat all the jelly tarts?” Callum giggled slightly without looking up from his sketchbook. Sarai smiled at how he thought his step-father as his own even in the safety of his own room. It was always a comfort to know how deeply they cared for one another.

“Not that one,” she said and Callum’s pencil stilled. “Callum, I need to talk to you about your birth father.”

That made Callum look up; his mother had never talked about his father before.

“Your father is a powerful and dangerous man, that’s why I haven’t told you anything about him,” Sarai continued, her eyes steely and serious, “and he has powerful and dangerous enemies that could come after you if they found out of your existence…do you understand?”

Callum mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, which made her breathe easier.

“Your father’s name is Aaravos, the Archmage of Xadia,” she said, “and a Startouch Elf, the rarest kind.”

Callum touched the tips of his ears where they came to a point, hidden under his flop of hair.

“I’m telling you this _now…_ because Harrow and I are going to be away from the castle for a few days, helping Duren, but if you get curious, I have some of his things that he left for you tucked into the third drawer on the left side in our room.”

She kissed his forehead then. “And we’ll talk more about him when I get back, all right?”

Callum nodded.

* * *

But Sarai never came back. Her body returned covered in a pure white sheet and several priceless items in Aaravos’ tower shattered alongside a cry of grief that no one could hear.

_“Callum, I want to talk to you about life and growing up, and how sometimes there are changes you don’t expect.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I literally have no idea which queen of Duren is which, if that isn't a gay mood, I don't know what is (jk, I realized I was accidentally correct, so there you go)  
> You guys have ruined daddy for me, I can never write it again without thinking of gutter connotations  
> This is going to be listed as a single chapter until I get inspired again, but with nursing school that might be awhile.  
> Find me @greygryffindor on tumblr where the thirst for Aaravos is real


End file.
